


An Impasse

by SkyScribbles



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Apostates (Dragon Age), Debates About Morality, Dialogue Heavy, Elven Alienages, Gen, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Kirkwall Gang Rivalries, Kirkwall Guard, Mage Underground, Making The Kirkwall Crew Get Along, Mention of abuse, The Guard Is Very Far From Perfect, Unspecified Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyScribbles/pseuds/SkyScribbles
Summary: Aveline never meant for this to happen. She was trying to find a murderer, and make amends for some of her failures. But now she's locked in a standoff with one of Hawke's friends, and neither of them is about to back down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born when a friend prompted me to write a fix-it fic for Aveline and Anders's relationship, because let's be honest, it would be nice if there were less bickering among the Kirkwall gang. So I thought for a long time about why they get along so badly, and what it might take for them to have an honest conversation about their differences. And this is the result.

  _Impasse (noun): a deadlock, a predicament affording no obvious escape._

* * *

 

The sword in Aveline’s hand feels heavy and cold, even though the metal of her gauntlets and the gloves underneath. She raises it anyway. She raises it, even though she can see Hawke’s horrified eyes in her mind, and hear Hawke’s voice shouting at her to stop.

Drawing in a breath, she tightens her grip on the weapon and looks directly into the eyes of the man in front of her. ‘Hand her over, Anders.’

Anders stares back at her, his eyes narrowed, defiant. He takes a step forward, sweeping the apostate girl behind him with one arm and bringing down his staff with the other. For a moment Aveline tenses, but he isn’t casting a spell, just planting the end of his staff firmly on the ground. The hard crack as it strikes the floor is more threatening than a spell, somehow, and Aveline knows he isn’t going to step aside.

‘She’s a criminal and a murderer, on the run from the law.’ Aveline takes a step forward, and Anders goes completely still, the way an animal freezes before it flees – or attacks. ‘I can’t walk away and pretend I never saw her. You need to let me take her to –’

She realises her mistake and stops, but it’s too late. Anders’s lip curls.

‘Face justice?’ he says, and though there’s no blue glow running through his skin, there’s something in his voice, an edge of something inhuman, something ethereal, something… _more._

Aveline’s throat goes dry, and she looks, hopelessly, at the sword in her hand. She can’t walk away, but one of Hawke’s friends stands in front of her with his eyes full of steel and his voice full of a spirit, and he’s never going to back down. She can betray her uniform or she can betray Hawke, and either option is unthinkable.

_Oh, Maker._ _How did it come to this?_

* * *

Aveline often feels that the terrible events in her life are heralded by tiny things. The lack of cheering after the beacon was lit at Ostagar. A faint grey flush creeping over Wesley’s face. A bouquet of white lilies delivered to Hawke’s mother.

On this occasion, it’s a complaint from Lowtown. A tiny thing, because complaints from Lowtown are a daily occurrence, easily handled by dispatching a handful of guards to the area and letting them break up whichever drunken brawlers are at it this time. Over the past week, she’s had even less time for such complaints than normal; her men have spent the last few days clearing Qunari bodies from the streets, escorting terrified nobles who now refuse to step out of their homes without protection, and doing whatever else is necessary to set Kirkwall back on its feet after the Arishok’s attack. With the city in such disarray, there’s just no time for tiny misdemeanours.

But she’s Captain of the Guard, so she has to listen, time or no.

‘So,’ Aveline says, trying hard to keep the frustration from her voice. ‘This man from the alienage has been ranting to the guards about being followed. He’s got no evidence, and there’s no apparent reason anyone would want to threaten him.’

‘Not that I can see, Captain.’ Brennan’s tone is apologetic. ‘We just can’t get rid of him. Every time we have patrols down there, he starts ranting about how we’re all useless. Keeps talking about ‘that girl’ and how she’s got to be arrested. I told him to watch his mouth or he’d be the one being arrested, but he was at it again next time I down there –’

‘And there’s no chance that he’s going to stop?’

‘I don’t know, Captain. I told him I’d talk to you, just to shut him up. Didn’t help much.' Brennan shrugs. 'He started blathering about how the Templars said the same thing and they never looked into it.’

Aveline looks up sharply. ‘Templars? What do they have to do with this?’

A pause, as Brennan shuffles her feet. ‘Well… there’s no reason to take his word for it, but this person following him about… he says she’s a mage. An apostate. She’s going to bring demons down on his head, apparently. I say the only thing going to be brought down on him is his bill for the Hanged Man.’

Aveline folds her arms and eyes Brennan carefully. ‘And do you know if the Templars _were_ told about this?’

‘Asked one of them on my way here. He said they’d had this elf ranting at them too. Said that there was no evidence and with the Order stretched thin keeping order after the Qunari attack, they didn’t have time to chase up on –’

She hesitates, and Aveline’s eyes narrow. ‘Chase up on what, exactly?’

Brennan looks at the floor. “Unsubstantiated rumours from drunken knife-ears,’ was what he said. Captain.’

Aveline sighs, and as she does, a series of images flash through her mind. The first is Merrill, on that day they went to find the magistrate’s son, with quiet anger in her eyes. _‘Human laws don’t value elven lives,’_ she says. The second image is of those Qunari converts, glaring at her across the compound, accusing one of her guardsmen of forcing himself on their sister, accusing her of doing nothing to make sure justice was done.

The third image is of Leandra, still and silent in Hawke’s arms, stitches around her neck and arms. Dead, because Aveline didn’t listen to Emeric’s leads, rejected his evidence and ignored his claims. It had seemed pointless at the time, she’d been so irritated with him distracting the guards and embarrassing them in front of the nobility, but –

But it killed Leandra.

Aveline draws in a breath. Too many people have died because her guards didn’t listen to the claims of elves, or because she didn’t chase a lead that seemed unimportant. Maybe this is a waste of her time, maybe she’ll regret it, but she knows she’ll regret it more if this turns into another Quentin.

‘All right,’ she says. ‘I’ll speak to him.’

Brennan says nothing, but her eyebrows shoot upwards.

‘If it’s nothing, and he’s another drunken complainer, he can’t deny he’s being taken seriously if the Captain of the Guard shows up. Maybe it’ll stop him from harassing the men.  And if there is any truth in what he says, then perhaps we stop someone dangerous from walking free. Either way, it’ll get him off our backs.’ Her mind made up, Aveline nods towards the door. ‘Dismissed. Tell Donnic to cover the rest of my duties for the day. And-'

'And what, Captain?'

Aveline sighs. 'Pray this doesn’t go as wrong as things normally do.'

* * *

If Brennan prays, the Maker doesn’t listen. Aveline has taken two and a half steps into the Alienage before everything falls apart.

She knows what’s coming the moment the elves start running towards her. When people run towards a guard with alarm and relief in their eyes, there’s usually only one reason for it. There’s a familiar flash of green amidst the throng as Merrill slips to the front of the crowd and skids to a halt in front of Aveline. ‘Oh, thank the Creators. I’m glad you’re here, Aveline, someone’s been killed and everyone’s panicking –’

Years of practice make the questions spring to her lips quickly. ‘Who is it? Where, and how?’

‘Anson.’ It’s another elf who speaks – one of the harbourmaster’s assistants, Aveline thinks. ‘He worked on the docks. We found him in the alleyway. It’s like he’s been burned.’

‘With fire?’

Merrill looks at the ground, and Aveline throws a sharp look at her.

‘No. Not with fire.’ Merrill wraps her arms around her upper body. ‘It’s like he was hit with lightning. Just in the centre of his chest, over his heart. A small bit of lightning, tiny really, but –’

Aveline closes her eyes. She’s fought enough battles with her mage friends to know what this means. ‘Take me to him, Merrill.’

The moment they’re out of earshot of the other elves, Merrill seizes Aveline’s gauntlet. ‘I had nothing to do with this, Aveline. I do think it was magic that killed him, but I’d _never._ You know I’d never –’

‘I was never going to accuse you.’ Whatever Aveline thinks of Merrill’s blood magic, the girl’s no murderer. ‘But if you know anything about other mages in the Alienage –’

‘I don’t. I know I don’t really know the other elves very well, and I know I don’t always notice things about people, but I’m sure I’d know if there were any other mages here.’

‘Did you know Anson at all?’

‘Not really.' Merrill shakes her head, her braids bouncing. 'I heard the others talk about him, and I saw him around a few times, but I never spoke to him.’

‘From what you overheard, did Anson ever seem worried about anything? Did he seem suspicious of someone? Was he complaining about being stalked, or threatened?’

Merrill’s brow creases. ‘Well, I did hear people saying –’

She glances at Aveline, suddenly and sharply, and presses her lips together.

‘Saying what?’

‘That he was talking about someone being out to get him.’

Aveline nods slowly. ‘And you think this _someone_ might have been the killer?’

The only response is a helpless look and a shrug.

The body, when they find it, is exactly what Aveline expected. A ragged, stained tunic, matted hair, wide eyes staring vacantly upwards. No blood. No open wounds. Just a single scorch mark over his heart, a blackened circle where fabric and skin and flesh have been burned together and seared right through. Aveline kneels beside him, examining the ground around him, peering closely at the wound. There’s no question. Nothing produces a mark like this except magic.

Straightening up, Aveline surveys the area. Aside from the minor detail of a dead body, the alleyway is clean and undisturbed. There’s not even the slightest piece of scuffed dirt to indicate a fight of any kind. Whoever killed Anson did so smoothly, quietly – even efficiently. Which means there’s an apostate loose in Kirkwall, one ruthless enough to ambush a man and powerful enough to kill him with a single bolt of lightning. 

She has to struggle not to bite her lip. The elf’s drunken ravings were true, after all. There _was_ an apostate. Someone _was_ stalking him. His life _was_ in danger. And maybe if her men had listened sooner, maybe if the Templars had paid any attention, maybe if the whole city hadn’t closed its ears to the voices of elves…

Aveline sighs, and pushes the thought away. No one listened, and she was too late. Those are facts that can’t be changed. All she can do now is see justice done, as best she can.

_Sorry wretch,_ she thinks, looking down at the sprawled, still form. _What did you know that would make you worth killing? What would make an alienage elf so dangerous to a rogue mage?_

She turns to her Merrill. ‘Do you know if Anson had any family? Friends? Anyone who might know why he was acting so strangely?’

‘I don’t think he had any family. I never saw him with any parents or brothers or sisters, anyway. But he was part of the alienage, so in a way they’re all his family. Except me, maybe, I still don’t really fit in here, but –’

 ‘Any women?’ Aveline interrupts.

It’s a hunch, only a hunch. But she hasn’t forgotten a word of Brennan’s report, and according to Brennan, Anson had been complaining about ‘that girl.’

Merrill frowns, seems to consider, then nods. ‘I… I _think_ he and Rinoa were together. They were walking around with each other and holding hands. Those are couple things, aren’t they? Though I hadn’t seen them together for a while, so maybe –’

She stops, and looks at Aveline with widening eyes. ‘You don’t think Rinoa killed him, do you? I know her, she’s one of the only people here who’s been friendly to me. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.’ There’s a sharpness in her words, and even though she’s a head shorter than Aveline and doesn’t even have her staff with her, she’s suddenly almost threatening. ‘She wouldn’t do this, Aveline.’

Despite herself, Aveline is impressed. She’s rarely seen Merrill so very defiant and certain. And no matter how strange and unobservant Merrill often seems, Aveline doesn’t think she’d stand up like this for someone who’d murder a man in an alleyway.

‘I’m not accusing Rinoa. I’m not accusing anyone, yet.’ Aveline glances at the body. ‘But a man’s dead, and those who were closest to him are the best places to find leads. I need to talk to Rinoa, nothing more.’

Merrill holds her gaze for a few seconds, then gives her a slow nod. ‘All right. This way.’

* * *

Rinoa is much like many of the young women Aveline sees scurrying about the alienage. Big eyes, nervously drumming fingertips, clothes covered in old stains that will clearly never come out. She freezes like a deer in torchlight when she sees Aveline on her doorstep, and it isn’t until Merrill darts forward to greet her that she inches aside to let them in. Aveline makes a mental note that having an elven friend is useful when it comes to opening doors and getting answers. Maybe she should see about starting a recruitment effort focused on the alienage. Can’t hurt to offer the elves another way to earn some coin, and having some of them in the guard… it might be a step towards making sure they get better treatment. They’re owed that, after all the ways Aveline’s been letting them down.

The house is only a single room, and the three of them take up almost all the free space in it. Rinoa gestures for Aveline and Merrill to take the spindly chairs at the table, and drags a wooden chest across the floor to sit on herself. Then there’s silence, as she stares at the floor, and Aveline stares at her, and Merrill glances back and forth between them.

‘I’m here about what happened to Anson,’ Aveline says at last. ‘I understand that the two of you were close?’

Rinoa gives a tiny nod. ‘You… you could say that.’

She doesn’t lift her gaze as she speaks. Aveline keeps her face impassive, but internally, she’s frowning. Until now, she’d assumed Rinoa’s quietness came from shock and grief. But Rinoa isn’t acting like a bereaved lover, she’s acting like someone scared. And to be sure, fear is only natural when an acquaintance is murdered and the guard captain shows up on your doorstep, but Aveline’s gut tells her that there’s more going on here.

She doesn’t seem like a murderer. But Merrill doesn’t seem much like a maleficar, either.

‘When did you last see Anson?’

‘A few days ago.’ Rinoa’s fingers beat out a restless rhythm on the tabletop. ‘We – we hadn’t really been speaking recently. We argued about something, and I… I didn’t want to talk to him.’

‘What did you argue about?’

Years of grilling suspects have made Aveline alert to even the tiniest signs that might give away the truth. She’s spotted tells in the most experienced and hardened of criminals – and Rinoa is clearly neither experienced nor hardened. When she mutters something about it being a ‘normal couple thing’, there’s a flush under her cheeks that belies her words.

It feels wrong to press this nervous, spindly girl so firmly, but Aveline isn’t about to let go of answers when they’re within reach. ‘You’re holding something back. What was the argument?’

Rinoa meets her eyes for the first time. ‘I wanted to leave him. He didn’t want to let me.’

‘You wanted him out of your life?’

The drumming fingertips go still. ‘I – you think I did it. But I didn’t. I swear, on Andraste’s name – I wouldn’t know how to kill someone even if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to, I was so angry with him, but I never wanted him dead, I _swear – ’_

Her voice cracks, her shoulders shake, and she drops her hands into her lap, bunching them into her skirt. Merrill slides her chair across to put a hand on her arm, but Rinoa flinches away. A few muffled sobs echo through the cramped room.

It’s genuine, Aveline’s sure it is. And if the girl’s an apostate, she’s bloody good at hiding it. But another thing Aveline’s used to is seeing tears from the people she’s questioning, and she’s learned to spot the difference between tears of grief and tears of shock and fear. These are the latter. 

She decides to take a gamble. ‘I don’t think you killed Anson, Rinoa. But I think you know who did.’

Another tell-tale sign – this time, a suspiciously quick intake of breath.

‘If you know something, I need you to tell me. If your own hands are clean, you’ve nothing to fear.’

‘I don’t know who killed him,’ Rinoa says, but she hesitates before she says it, and the pause is long enough to tell Aveline that she was considering a different answer.

‘You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you? Who is it? A family member? A friend?’ Aveline waits for a moment as Rinoa continues gazing determinedly at the floor, and realises that stronger measures are going to be called for. ‘Whoever killed Anson used magic. That means the killer’s an apostate, so if you know something about them and keep it to yourself, you’re harbouring an apostate mage. For Kirkwall’s sake and for your own, I need you to –’

She stops, because Rinoa’s sobs have suddenly and bizarrely become mingled with laughter.

‘Harbouring an apostate.’ The twisted half-laughs she’s gasping out have a touch of ferocity to them. ‘Little late for you to accuse me of that, shem.’

Merrill draws back with a soft sound of alarm, but Aveline leans forward. ‘You know them. Who are they?’

Another silence. Then Rinoa sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and looks up.

‘She told me that if the Templars or the guards came asking, I should tell you about her.’ The moment of defiance has passed-  her voice is barely above a whisper now. ‘She said… if you started to suspect… you’d arrest me for protecting an apostate, even if you didn’t have proof. And then what she did... it'd be meaningless. Because she did it to protect me. I never thought she’d do it, but she did it and she did it for me.’

Aveline leans forward in her seat. ‘And who is _she,_ exactly?’

‘You don’t mean – ’ Merrill starts to say, then presses her lips together firmly as if to stop herself from saying too much. Rinoa glances at her, and shoots her a small, tearful smile.

‘I do mean Sina,’ she says, then turns to Aveline and adds, ‘My sister. We were born in Starkhaven. She was just seven when her magic started to show, and they took her to the Circle. I visited her all the time, but then the elders arranged for our father to be sent to the Kirkwall alienage to marry a woman here. I left with him, and I didn’t see Sina again for years, until…’

Her voice trails off, but Aveline, remembering the batch of apostates Ser Thrask was trying to help on the Wounded Coast, fills in the gaps. ‘Until the Starkhaven Circle burned down, and she escaped. And since she didn’t know anything about how to live in the world outside the Circle, she came to you. Her only family.’

Rinoa’s head dips in a way that might be a nod, or simply a nervous tremor. ‘It was three years ago. She stayed with me, and got a job, and – and things were fine.’ She looks up at Aveline with the defiant spark back in her eyes, as if she expects Aveline to argue. ‘She was fine. She had bad dreams sometimes, but that was it. There were no demons, and she never lost control of her magic. She barely ever even used it. Sina wasn’t a danger to anybody.’

‘She killed a man.’

‘Anson did that to himself. Or he might have well have.'

‘Tell me what happened,’ Aveline says evenly, and Rinoa’s head drops back down.

‘Anson and I were together for years, before Sina came here. Things were better between us then. He had a good job on the docks, and he didn’t drink, and I… I trusted him. He and Sina got along fine, and when he started wondering why she never really went out much, and why she avoided the Templars… we thought there couldn’t be harm in telling him the truth. He was family.’ Her hands bunch into fists. ‘Then it all went wrong. He lost his job, and he started spending all his time in the Hanged Man, and he… he changed. One day I woke up and I realised I didn’t trust him anymore. So I told him it was over. He… didn’t take it well.’

This time, when Merrill reaches out to touch her arm, Rinoa doesn’t shrug the hand away. ‘He said I was ungrateful. That he loved me, and that meant I was his. That he needed me, so I couldn’t leave, and I was selfish to want to. That he wasn’t letting me leave. It – it scared me. And when Sina tried to talk to him… he said that if I wouldn’t take him back, he’d tell the Templars about her.’

Aveline’s jaw clenches. ‘So she killed him.’

‘I didn’t know she was planning to do it until he was found dead.’ Rinoa’s voice is barely audible now. ‘She told me – afterwards – that she’d been following him around for days, waiting for the right moment. She said it was to keep me safe.’

‘Sounds like she was keeping herself safe.’ The words come out harsher than Aveline intended. ‘Killing the one man who could betray her to the Templars. Why didn’t she just leave Kirkwall?’

‘Because then Anson would still be here. And if he wanted to get revenge on me, he could go to the Templars and tell them I’d been harbouring an apostate, and then I’d be arrested. And she was terrified that Anson wasn’t going to leave me alone. That if I wouldn’t stay with him, he’d hurt me, or worse –’

‘Then why didn’t you report him to the Guard?’

Rinoa tips her head back and lets out a bark of bitter laughter. ‘Like you’d do anything!’

A moment later, her hands are crammed over her mouth as if she can’t believe she had the nerve to say the words, but Aveline feels no anger, only a crushing guilt. It’s true. If Rinoa had come to her with this complaint, she’d have called it a domestic matter, beyond her jurisdiction. And if Rinoa hadn’t had a mage sister to protect her from Anson... things could have ended badly.

Well. Even worse than they have, at least.

She draws in a long breath. ‘So Sina killed Anson to keep him away from you. You realise you’re still guilty of protecting an apostate?’

‘But Aveline, so –’

Merrill stops hurriedly, but Aveline knows she would have said, _so are you. And so are all of Hawke’s friends, and you don’t arrest them._

And she’s right. Aveline closes her eyes. The law’s justice demands she arrest Rinoa, but the justice of decent morality tells her she can’t possibly arrest a woman for a crime she’s guilty of herself.

‘Sina wasn’t dangerous,’ Rinoa says softly. ‘Not until Anson forced her hand. She loved living here, even though it was hard. She loved watching the birds in the Vhenadal and listening to the sea and cooking her own food. She only ever used magic to light the hearth and cool our drinks. Hiding her wasn’t dangerous. _She_ wasn’t dangerous.’

Conscious of Merrill’s eyes upon her, and fiercely aware of all the times one of the mages in Hawke’s strange little circle has saved her life, Aveline only nods. ‘I believe you. I might not agree with you sheltering her, but I believe you. And… I won’t be taking you in. Yours is a small crime, and the guard has bigger problems.’

The tension drains a little from Rinoa’s body – but only a little, as if she’s afraid to let herself relax too much.

‘One more question.’ Aveline folds her arms across her chest, her gauntlets and metal armbands clinking against her armour. ‘Anson’s body was found only a little while ago. Sina must have come straight here from killing him to tell you what she’d done. That can only have been minutes before I arrived. So where is she now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rinoa’s voice is steadier now. ‘She told me she was going to run, because as soon as people realised Anson had been killed by magic, they’d start hunting the Alienage for an apostate. She said… shems only care when someone’s dead.’

‘And you’ve no idea where she might have run to?’

Rinoa shakes her head, but this time, it’s Merrill who gives the game away. Her eyes dart over to Rinoa, and then down to the table, in a way that’s too quick and too nervous for it not to mean something.

_Merrill knows where she’s gone. Or suspects, anyway._

It hits Aveline with all the force of one of her own shield-bashes. The best way for an apostate to escape Kirkwall quickly is with the help of the mage underground. And there’s one person not too far away who’s very intimately connected with it. Someone who Aveline knows for a fact has treated Alienage elves in his clinic. Someone Sina would know could be an ally.

She stands up, pushing her chair back firmly. ‘All right. I’ll head back to the barracks and start a search. Your sister’s intentions may be – understandable. But I can’t ignore the law.’

Rinoa looks at the ground again. ‘I know.’

‘Merrill, will you stay here? Look after Rinoa.’

Merrill smiles and nods, relief plain on her face – whether because she’s glad not to be joining in the apostate hunt, or because she thinks Aveline didn't pick up on the clue she inadvertently dropped, Aveline isn’t sure. She heads for the door, then stops, and glances back over her shoulder.

‘I know the guard has failed the elves,’ she says. The words are hard to force out, but they need to be said. ‘I’ll do what I can to change that. You have my word.’

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting – disbelief, maybe, or thanks. But Rinoa gives her neither, merely stares at the floorboards and drums her fingertips on the table. Aveline forces herself not to shrug, opens the door – with caution, because it looks like too forceful a tug would rip it clean off its hinges – and steps outside.

The moment the door is closed behind her, she starts to run.

* * *

She has time. She’s sure she has time. Sina can have left Rinoa’s house only minutes before Aveline and Merrill arrived, and the girl will have had to find her way to a strange place in Darktown. Aveline, though – Aveline could find the way to Anders’s clinic in her sleep. If she’s lucky, she may even catch Sina before she reaches it.

She isn’t lucky. The clinic door is closed, and the lantern has been extinguished. Refugees who pass by will know that the Darktown Healer is not at home.

All the same, Aveline peers through a window. There are a few patients lying on cots, covered by threadbare blankets, but no sign of Anders. He must have decided they were well enough to be left alone for a short time – but the lantern, when Aveline touches it, is still warm. The flame was snuffed out recently.

It only takes her a minute to work out where he would have gone. The sprawling cellar network of the old Amell estate has an entrance right outside Anders’s clinic, and Aveline knows that it leads to more places than Hawke’s mansion. Some of those passages may well have exits outside the city, or perhaps they lead to safehouses for the mage underground. Whatever the case, it’s the most obvious place for Anders to have taken the girl, a way  to get her out of sight and quickly shake off any pursuit.

Aveline sprints for the entrance. The tunnel’s dimly lit, but she’s crawled through plenty of caverns and passages during her time with Hawke, and she’s learned to cope with semi-darkness. So she barely slows her pace as she hurries through the narrow corridor. They can only have a small head-start – if she keeps running, there’s a good chance she’ll catch them –

_Them._

Aveline almost stops running. _Them._ She’s not chasing a single apostate, she’s chasing two. Anders, damn him, he’s decided to escort Sina to safety himself, and that means that if Aveline catches up with Sina, he’ll be there.

She reaches a fork, and stops, grateful for an excuse to both catch her breath and think for a moment. If she finds them, surely Anders will hand Sina over? She can understand him defending a fellow apostate. She’d never expect him to do otherwise, little as she might agree with it. But a murderer? Surely he’ll see the need for someone like that to be taken into custody?

_Not bloody likely. Not with that spirit in him._

Aveline peers down each passage in turn, mentally mapping them onto an image of the city. She’d guess that the left-hand fork leads deeper into the tunnel network, while the right-hand path twists away in the direction of the Wounded Coast. There’s no way to be sure which way Sina and Anders have gone, but she'd guess the latter. If she were a mage on the run, she'd want to get out of Kirkwall as soon as possible.

It’s a gamble, but she doesn’t have a choice. Gathering a breath, Aveline breaks into a run again, heading down the passageway to the right. If she meets Anders… well, that’s a bridge she’ll cross if she comes to it. Maybe he’ll see reason.

_And if he doesn’t? Would you really fight him?_

Ignoring the thoroughly unhelpful voice in her head, Aveline presses on.

Three twists in the tunnel later, a sound begins to echo through the passageway. Footsteps. Two sets. At first, they’re moving briskly, but not at a run. Then they begin to quicken.

_They heard me._ Grateful for her years of experience in moving while wearing heavy plate, Aveline pushes herself faster. There’s another turn up ahead, and as she throws herself around it, she’s rewarded with a gust of cool wind in her face – musty, but fresh – and the sight of two figures moving through the murk ahead of her. One slim, with sticklike limbs and long ears visible even from a distance. One taller, sturdier, a dragon-headed staff gripped in one hand.

Aveline learned a long time ago that little makes a fugitive stop as sharply as the sound of steel. Her hand finds her sword hilt. As she pulls the weapon free, she shouts down the passage, her voice rebounding off the walls. ‘ _Anders!’_

The running figures freeze. Anders turns, summoning a fistful of fire into one hand to light the passage. Sina – as wispily built as her sister, but with paler hair and a stronger stance – glances at him, then closes her hands around twin balls of lightning. Anders shakes his head at her, and jabs his staff in the direction of the tunnel behind them. ‘Go. Quickly. Get out of here.'

‘Don’t move,’ Aveline snaps. She pulls her shield down from her back and takes a few firm steps towards them.

Firelight flickers on the tunnel walls, and now she's closer, Aveline can see it reflecting in Anders's eyes. They're a familiar, reassuring brown - but she knows just how easily they could turn to blue.

'Aveline,;' he says. 'I won’t let you take her.’

‘Do you know what she’s done?’ Aveline keeps her sword held low, but she doesn’t stop walking towards them. ‘Did she tell you about the man she killed?’

His handful of fire grows a little brighter. ‘She told me about how she dealt with the man who was harassing her sister. Funny. I always thought that sort of thing was your job.’

‘My job is upholding the law. I don't murder people in cold blood to fix problems. You’d really help her escape, after what she’s done?’

‘You know, I saw a lot of that in the Circle. Templars who thought that because the mages were in their power, they could force them to agree to anything and no one could stop them.’ Anders speaks so lightly that Aveline might have thought he was joking, if not for the look of complete and utter ice in his eyes. ‘I’d say stopping someone like that deserves a medal, not the brand.’

Aveline opens her mouth to say that Sina’s clearly old enough to have been Harrowed, so she won’t be made Tranquil – and then stops. Because that’s never stopped Meredith before.

‘What Anson did was wrong. I won’t argue with that. But she –’ Aveline nods in Sina’s direction – ‘went too far. This isn’t like turning a blind eye to you or Merrill. You at least heal people, try to do some good. She’s a criminal, and I have to take her in.’

His grip on his staff tightens. ‘No.’

And Aveline realises that what she feared has come to pass. Anders stands firm, unwavering, between her and Sina. He will not back down. And neither can she.

The sword in Aveline’s hand feels heavy and cold, even though the metal of her gauntlets and the gloves underneath. She raises it anyway. She raises it, even though she can see Hawke’s horrified eyes in her mind, and hear Hawke’s voice shouting at her to stop.

Drawing in a breath, she tightens her grip on the weapon and looks directly into the eyes of the man in front of her. ‘Hand her over, Anders.’


	2. Chapter 2

The moment freezes, and drags on, and on. Aveline does not lower her sword. Anders does not lower his staff. Sina has let her lightning spell fade away, but she remains poised, ready, her eyes drilling into Aveline. She shows no signs of planning to run.

_Maybe she can't bear to abandon the man who helped her,_ Aveline thinks. _Or maybe she knows that if she fled, this would come to blows for sure. Bit much for her to be trying to avoid bloodshed now, after she’s killed a man._

Aveline looks carefully into Anders’s eyes, on the lookout for even the tiniest trace of blue. ‘If I try to take her, what will you do?’

‘What I must.’ The sentence is sharp, hard, uttered without hesitation.

Bizarrely, Aveline almost laughs. Not because anything about this is in any way amusing, but because it’s so utterly _ridiculous._ ‘We’ve known each other more than three years, and you’d turn against me for the sake of a criminal?’

‘For one of my own kind. For someone who deserves freedom.’ The light from his spell dances, casting splashes of amber and gold over his face. Even without the spirit flickering under his skin, he looks ethereal. Anyone could glance at him right here, right now, and know that he is no ordinary mortal. ‘I swore I’d never let another mage be taken to face the executioner, or the Rite of Tranquillity.’

_Like Karl was taken,_ Aveline thinks, and she knows then what an impossible thing it will be, to convince him to break that oath. When you’re fused with a spirit of Justice, are there even enough grey areas left in the world for you to have a concept of promise-breaking?

The thought makes anger stir in her stomach. He’s a bloody abomination, and he thinks he has the right to lecture her about right and wrong, or how she should do her job?

‘For the Maker’s sake, Anders –’ she snaps, but the sentence suddenly falters. Snarling at him like this seems wrong, and after a moment, she realises why. There’s another name, one far more important, that she should be invoking right now. A name they’re both betraying by threatening each other.

‘For Hawke’s sake.’ The words some out unexpectedly soft. ‘Please, Anders. We can’t fight each other, or –’

She can’t finish, but she knows Anders understands, because his eyes drop from hers and the fire spell – while it certainly doesn’t fade – shrinks a little. They both owe Hawke so much. Everything, even. How could they possible be forgiven if they hurt each other? And after everything Hawke’s lost… for one of them to die at the other’s hands would almost certainly be the final straw. They cannot let it come to that. One of them has to back down. But it can’t be Aveline, she can’t betray herself like that. But she knows Anders, and she knows it won’t be him either, so how in the Maker's name can they possible find a way to fix this?

‘Excuse me.’

Aveline blinks, and shakes herself slightly. Her attention has been so focused on Anders, she’d almost forgotten the girl they were arguing over. But Sina has taken a step forward, and is looking at Aveline calmly, without a trace of fear.

‘If you two know each other, I don’t want you to fight each other over me,’ she says. ‘But I'm not going to hand myself in.'

It’s a struggle to suppress an eye-roll. ‘If you want to avoid violence, I don’t see many other ways of making that happen. If you hand yourself over, this will -'

‘I can’t do that. I have to stand by what I believe. Just as you want to stand by what you believe. And the Healer stands by what he believes.’

‘You believe in taking the law into your own hands? Resolving blackmail with murder?’

‘I believe in protecting the people I care about with everything I have!’ The shout reverberates off the tunnel walls. ‘And when the people who should protect them for me do nothing, I believe in acting. When I was in the Circle, I saw terrible things happen to so many of my friends. Beatings. Tranquillity. Siblings and couples torn apart. They did that, the Templars, the people who were supposed to be our _caretakers.’_ She spits out the final word as if it’s a mouthful of particularly sour mosswine. ‘And you know what I did? Exactly what I could: nothing. Because I didn’t have the power to protect them. But now I do. So when Anson threatened my sister, I stopped him.’

Aveline shakes her head slowly. ‘You should have come to the guard. I spoke to Rinoa. I know you didn’t trust us to help. But if you’d just _tried –’_

‘Our next-door neighbour had one of your guards force himself on her.’ Rinna practically snarls the words. ‘Just like the Templars did to the other mages in the Circle. Her brothers complained to you, and nothing was done. You left him on your force so he could do it to someone else, and when her brothers stopped him for good, you came to arrest them. Straight away. A human rapes an elf and no one cares, but elves kill a human, and suddenly there’s so many guards after them that they have to run to the Qunari, and they die fighting for the Arishok.’ She lifts her chin. ‘Are you surprised Rinoa and I didn’t come to you?’

‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’

Anders lets out a short, bitter laugh. ‘I bet you didn’t shift a foot until you heard the word _apostate_ mentioned.’

‘I love Rinoa.’ Sina’s voice very nearly cracks as she says her sister’s name, but she draws in a breath and keeps it steady. ‘She’s the only person I’ve ever been able to love completely. In the Circle, you’re always – always so afraid to love. But with Rin, I was free. I could care about her as much as I wanted to. And when that bastard betrayed her trust – tried to force her into something she didn’t want any more – I _couldn’t_ just sit by. I couldn’t.’

She takes a step forward. Her hands are spread open, as if to show that she’s not about to attack, but there’s steel in every other inch of her demeanour. ‘I didn’t do this for me. It was never about me. If I’d been worried about the Templars finding me, I’d have just run, like I’m doing now. But I had to take care of Anson, because if he hurt Rinoa, and I didn’t stop him, I’d be –’

Sina looks down, her hands clenching into fists.

‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘I’d be nothing.’

There’s another moment of silence. Then Anders says, ‘You’re the bloody Guard Captain. You can’t tell me you don’t believe in protecting people.’

‘Not by breaking the law myself.’

‘But wouldn’t you?’ Sina demands. ‘If it were your sister. Or anyone you cared about. Wouldn’t you do anything – betray anything – to save someone who meant that much to you?’

Aveline opens her mouth. The words are already on her lips, charged with anger at this challenge, ready to be spoken sharply and harshly. _I would never betray my own principles, not even for someone I loved. Don’t compare yourself to me. I would never –_

And then she stops. Thinks of the Fade. The desire demon that told her she could have Wesley back, if she turned on Hawke.

_It’s not the same. The demon was affecting my mind. I’d never do that in the real world._

Maybe she wouldn’t. But she still understands. She remembers holding Wesley in her arms as he looked at her through glazed eyes, as black bile bubbled in his throat and grey veins snaked across his face. She remembers him begging her to end him, and the soundless scream that begged to break free from her mouth, that howled in her head for days even after Wesley was gone. _Not him. Let there be a way to save him. I’ll do anything, forsake everything. Take anything from me, tear the heart from my chest if that’s what it takes, but not him, not him, not him._

She lost him anyway, of course. But the years passed, and the scream faded, and she met Donnic. Donnic, whose eyes lit up when she pulled him to his feet in that alleyway, as if her presence was the most blessed thing in the world. Donnic, who by some miracle survived the Qunari assault on Vigil’s Keep, who – when everything was over and the Arishok was gone and Hawke sat wearily on the steps of the keep as the crowds cheered – pushed through the throng to find her and fell into her arms and held onto her as if he expected her to vanish if he let go. Donnic, who lay beside her that night looking so small, so vulnerable out of his armour.

And as she watched him sleep, Aveline felt something stir inside her, the same vicious desire to protect she felt when the darkspawn horde closed in on Wesley. _You will not have him,_ she told the world silently. _You will not even touch him. I will stand between him and the Maker if I have to, and I will rip the stars from the skies if I must. I will never hear that scream inside my own head again. The world will not have him._

Her sword is hanging at her side. Lowered. She wasn’t aware of bringing it down, but there it is, no longer pointed at Sina and Anders. Somehow, Aveline doesn’t think she has the strength to raise it.

‘Go.’

The word comes out so quietly she can barely here it herself, so she isn’t surprised when both apostates say, ‘What?’ in almost perfect unison. Or maybe they did hear her perfectly. Maybe they just can’t believe it. Aveline can’t believe it either.

‘I said, go.’ The words feel thick and awkward in her throat, like food she’s swallowed down the wrong way, and now has to choke up in ragged gasps. But they come out, unnatural though they sound on her lips, and they echo softly through the passageway. ‘Get her out of here, Anders. She can go.’

They keep staring at her, Sina with disbelief, Anders with suspicion. Aveline swallows, and forces the stern edge back into her voice. ‘I don’t want to see you in Kirkwall again, Sina. If you come back, I will hunt you down, and I will not show this mercy a second time. Get out of Kirkwall, and find yourself another life. And I don’t care how, if you hurt someone else, I’ll find out about it somehow, and –’

‘I won’t,’ Sina says, very quietly, and very firmly. ‘Never.’

‘Then go. And pray you don’t make me regret this.’

The girl nods, and takes a step backward, towards place where wind from outside sweeps dodn the tunnel. Anders lingers a moment, looking at Aveline through narrowed eyes, staff slightly raised. As if he’s waiting for the double cross. To prove it won’t come, Aveline sheathes her sword, and Anders responds by snuffing out his fire spell, nodding to Sina, and hurrying away down the passage. Within moments, both of them have vanished into darkness.

Aveline closes her eyes and stands motionless for a moment, drinking in the dusty air. Then she hefts her shield onto her back, turns around, and starts the trek back towards the city.

* * *

 

She doesn’t see Anders again for two weeks. She’s busy in the barracks and around the town, he’s probably busy in his clinic, and Hawke’s too busy with this new Champion thing to call everyone out on the normal bizarre escapades. On a patrol through the Lowtown market, she does run into Merrill, who asks her if she ever caught Sina, and smiles brightly when Aveline says no. ‘Good,' she says, ‘Rinoa will be so relieved.’ Then she blurts out an apology, she didn’t mean to suggest that Aveline wasn’t doing her job properly, that was probably insensitive wasn’t it, she’s so sorry.

Aveline nearly laughs.

Eventually, Hawke invites her on a mission to the Wounded Coast. Leftover Tal-Vashoth have been stalking travellers, and that’s something Aveline is happy to help deal with. And when she arrives at the place where she and Hawke agreed to meet, Anders is there, sitting alongside Varric and laughing at whatever ridiculous tale the dwarf is spinning now.

He looks up when Aveline approaches, and his expression is unreadable.

As they traipse along the sand, Aveline finds herself lagging to the back of the party. It’s not something she does often – she prefers to be at the front, where she can see a threat coming and have a shield quickly placed between danger and her companions. But now, she can’t think of any other way to subtly indicate to Anders that she wants to talk to him. She’s got no idea what she plans to say, of course, but – well, they can’t just pretend it never happened.

He seems to understand, because he drops back to walk beside her. And as soon as Hawke and Varric are far enough ahead to be out of earshot, Aveline draws in a breath and says, ‘The mage girl. Did she make it out of Kirkwall?’

‘She’s fine.’ The words are clipped. ‘She’s in good hands, and headed somewhere safe. And no, I’m not saying where.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask,’ Aveline snaps, narrowly managing to stop herself from adding _you moody arse._

His lips are pressed into a thin line. ‘So you’re keeping your word? Letting an apostate roam free? That can’t sit well with your great principles of justice.’

‘You might at least thank me.’

‘For not killing me, you mean? I didn’t realise that I had to thank people for the great allowance they make in letting me keep breathing.’

‘You’re impossible to talk to,’ Aveline says shortly, and is ready to march ahead to join Hawke and Varric when Anders speaks again.

‘I have to ask. Did you let her go for Hawke’s sake? I mean - because you didn’t want it to end in a fight, and make Hawke deal with one of us killing the other? Or did you truly believe it was the right thing to do?’

Aveline slows her pace again, and turns the question over in her mind. Maybe if she thinks about it for a good five years, she’ll know the answer.

‘I believe you thought it was right to let her go,’ she says at last.

She isn’t surprised when Anders lets out a huff of frustration and says, ‘That’s not an answer.’ She agrees.

Aveline looks down, focusing on nothing but the way her boots dig grooves into the sand with every footstep. She thinks of Wesley, and Donnic, and the desire demon, and Rinoa’s trembling fingers, and the loyalty the Hawke siblings had for each other, and the proud honesty in Sina’s voice. She thinks of that moment when she found her sword hanging at her side, and realised that the idea of lifting it again was unthinkable.

‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘There’ve been – mistakes, recently. With the guard. Things I failed to do. Maybe if I’d done them… things wouldn’t have happened as they did. That man’s blood is on my hands, too. And –’

She hesitates. She could say this to Hawke without hesitation, but the idea of opening up about something so private to _Anders,_ of all people…

‘And?’ he prompts her, and she decides she’s got nothing to lose.

‘And I thought of Donnic. And Wesley. I like to think I wouldn’t go as far for Donnic as Sina did for Rinoa, and that I wouldn’t have gone that far for Wesley. But I can’t say I wouldn’t. Can anyone?’

Anders nods slowly. ‘Ironic that you thinking of a Templar should have saved a mage’s life.’

She doesn’t know whether he actually meant to be belligerent this time, but she still finds herself stung to anger. ‘Clearly you’re just not comfortable with being indebted to a Templar.’

His jaw tightens, and Aveline can see him preparing a (probably snappish) response. But then he presses his lips together and says nothing, merely walks on, kicking at the sand a little harder when he puts his feet down. And suddenly, Aveline can’t let the opening slip by. For once, he isn’t throwing a retort back at her, and it’s a chance to release all the frustration that’s been bottling up inside her for three years.

‘Wesley was a good man. And I loved him. And he _never –_ ’ She can’t stop her voice from trembling with rage – ‘He _never_ asked me to play ‘the naughty mage and the helpless recruit’, you bloody sour bastard.’

There’s a long silence, broken only by the crunching of their footsteps and the sound of Varric laughing up ahead.

‘When I found out you were married to a Templar, I’d just seen Karl made Tranquil at their hands.’ Anders looks resolutely at the horizon as he speaks. ‘I wasn’t ready to be kindly disposed.’

‘Are you ever?’

‘No.’

His honesty, at least, is refreshing. And it’s strange, now Aveline thinks about it, how quickly they should have come to dislike each other, when they had that grief in common. Wesley. Karl. Two men who died at the hands of their lovers, in an act of cruel mercy. Maybe, if Wesley had been anything but a Templar, that grief could have united them. Instead, it built up walls of mistrust and resentment.

Aveline closes her eyes for a moment. ‘Wesley didn’t give Karl the brand.’

 ‘No. But he was part of the order that decided mages should be subjected to Tranquility. If he wasn’t shouting for the order to be changed, don’t tell me that he wasn’t part of the order that killed Karl. Standing by and doing nothing when people are suffering is complacency, not neutrality.’ There’s a trace of Justice in his voice, the slightest touch of added formality and a softest ethereal echo. ‘Only one darkspawn put the Blight into Wesley’s blood. But I’m sure you hate the whole horde, not just that one.’

And Aveline understands. ‘This is why you don’t like me. Because I’m not shouting for change.’

‘You’re in a position of power in Kirkwall. If you tried to change things, you could help change _everything.’_

‘Kirkwall is fragile enough, Anders. I’m Captain of the Guard. I’m not here to make change, I’m here to uphold the law, to give people some kind of stability. And if people aren’t giving the city stability at a time like this –’

‘When stability’s lost, the world shakes.’ The Fade echo is gone, but Anders’s voice is still strong with resolution. ‘And then it changes.’

They’re quiet again. A bird breaks cover from a shrub nearby them and screeches its way towards the sea.

‘Justice could never stand complacency,’ Anders says suddenly. ‘He rebuked me for it all the time, back when I was with the Wardens.’

‘And you think I’m complacent.’ Aveline tries to be angry, but she thinks of Emeric, and Leandra, and the viddethari who took revenge for their sister, and Anson and Rinoa and Sina – and she can’t summon the energy. ‘I’m trying, Anders. I’m trying to help this city the best way I know how.’ She hesitates, then adds, ‘And I know you are too. You’ve saved a lot of lives with your clinic. And I know you want the best for the mages, even if I disagree with your methods.’

He turns his head toward her, and they share a long look. And Aveline knows that even though he’ll never accept her values, even though she can never agree with his, they’ve finally reached an understanding. For her, doing good means preserving the law. For him, doing good means changing the law. Who except the Maker - if there is a Maker - can really say which of them's right?

‘What I said about Wesley was – ’ Anders stops, and breathes in deeply, as if he’s struggling to get the words out. ‘It was disrespectful. And wrong. I’m… sorry.’

He’s determinedly not looking at her. And Aveline thinks, _if he’d apologised for what he said three years ago, might we have been friends? Or… better friends?_

Probably not. They look at the world too differently, believe in causes that are far, far too different. Maker, each of them stands in direct opposition to what the other represents. How could they ever see eye to eye?

But perhaps they can respect each other. Because now he's apologised, Aveline understands why he never has before. She understands that he’s done with making apologies for who he is and what he believes, and that it’s given him a stubborn, defiant streak, one that must make an apology almost impossible to utter. She might not agree with it, and she’d still rather like to hit him, but she can understand it.

He believes what he believes with complete conviction, and he makes no apologies for it. Aveline can respect that.

‘And… I shouldn’t have asked you about how to fight apostates,’ she says. ‘It was tactless of me.’

Anders gives a short nod. 'Look - I'm not going to lie about my opinions of you, or what you do. But if you're ever hurt.. I'm a healer. And I'll be there.'

'And if you get attacked, step back and let me handle it. I'll protect you like I protect all of Hawke's friends.'

There’s silence, yet again, but this time it's more comfortable. Maybe you don't have to agree with someone - or even like someone - to consider them an ally, or to care about what happens to them. Because, Aveline realises, she does care. She wouldn't want Anders to be dragged off to the Gallows to face the brand or the sword. And she has a feeling he wouldn't want harm to come to her, either, and that he's happy for her and Donnic. It's strange to think about, but... everything about being part of Hawke's little gang is strange.

At that moment, Hawke lets out a yell from up ahead. Aveline’s sword is drawn in an instant, and a faint hum of warmth beside her tells her that Anders has lit up his healing aura. She glances at him, eyebrows raised. ‘What do you think it is this time?’

‘Giant spiders. It’s _always_ giant spiders.’

The sword in Aveline’s hand is light and easy to lift. Together, she and Anders ready their weapons, and run toward the sound of Hawke’s voice.


End file.
